March 9, 2010

L M N O...

From an unnamed production office for an undisclosed television show in an address-withheld building in LA where the elevators are shockingly slow...

I have to admit something that, as a woman, I feel I shouldn't.  But I will.  Here in front of blog and everyone.  Sometimes... I have to pee.  At work even.  And holy wow can that be a problem.  Here are the top three reasons, in no particular order, that I resent having a bladder at the office:

1) You would think, as I work in an office with people who are responsible enough to, say, work in an office, that the ladies who use the bathroom could figure out how to not be disgusting.  Not since my college dorm community bathrooms has gingerly tapping a stall door with the tip of my foot to see if there's nastiness that I should run from and burn from my mind seemed reasonable.  When, first thing in the morning, I encounter the end result of some grown woman or another's decision to not cooperate with the automatic flush function, I begin an unparalleled desire to be a robot-human who never needed to visit this grody, windowless room.

2)  I don't know how men roll, but ladies love making smiling eye contact as they hold the bathroom door for each other or when they brush blouses at the sink.  Gross.  "Hey, you're about to go do something weirdly private in this same public bathroom I just did something weirdly private in.  Good morning!  I love your lip gloss!"  No.

3)  Staff-wide meetings are already painful enough, but boy am I vain, and boy do I not make any money, and so boy do I drink a lot of water in hopes that that old-fashioned wisdom about hydrating keeping your skin looking young is true. Today, about 10 minutes into an hour-and-a-half long meeting, I wished that I had the ugliest most raisin-like face anyone had ever seen because the way that I needed to/was too embarrassed to get out of that conference room before my bladder exploded like a really well-aimed, terrifically far-thrown water balloon was unbelievable.  As I sat there, willing death, I thought about how no one in all the months I've worked here has EVER gotten up from one of these meetings to go to the bathroom, and how maybe I could just pee in my seat and by a Passover miracle no one would notice, or maybe I could fake choking and get up as if on a desperate quest for water (I ultimately thought that aggressive coughing would not work in my favor biologically), or maybe I should try to rewrite the day's history and convince myself I had not had liters of water to drink at all, and that this was all mental and completely fixable.  Not surprisingly, none of these options panned out, and the thought of being the first person in the history of staff meetings to have a bodily need was too humiliating to do anything but sit there tortured.  So when the meeting ended, and I had my hand ON THE HANDLE of the door, and my boss remembered something else he wanted us all to come in and sit back down for, I became certain that I was Glenn Beck in a former life to deserve all this agony.

...And these are the reasons that I am in favor of machines running the world.  I see no other way.

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